Burdened
by McColSHLoki
Summary: Khan has fallen into Asgard on reasons that he refuses to tell. Even to Loki, who he quickly finds a comradrie in, which they quickly begin to find, blossoms into something even more-so. As they try to make Khans space craft capable of travel again, they become close by their interest in both power and the desire to be more than what they were meant to be.


**Part 1 of many to come. All credit goes to McCol D. Iles (MD Iles and believeinsherlock_cumberbatch) and sherlockfanart on Instagram. No stealing please and tell me what you think. I am open to critique!**

**Here are some terms I use in this Part. Ask me if there are any other terms/names that need clarification.**

Heimdallr= son of Odin …

AEsir= a 'god' of Asgard

Skraeling= foreigner

Midgard/Midgardian= Earth/a person from Earth

**Please enjoy, follow, favourite, review, and whatever!**

**BURDENED: Skraeling**

"All Father." announced Heimdallr. The AEsir strides into Odin's bedchambers, clad in intricate gold and bronze armour, his right arm crossed over his chest, the bronze bracer on it glinting in the rooms light. Odin looked up from his spot at his desk where he had been bent over several ancient looking papers seconds beforehand. A smile crosses his lips under his greying beard as he takes in the warrior state of his son, his armour and brown cloth encasing him majestically. Heimdallr held his helmet in the crook of his left arm, lowering his right off of his chest as the All Father rose from his desk chair, his embroidered brown and cream robes falling about him elegantly. He extended his arms towards his son in welcome, the smile still upon his face. Heimdallr stepped towards him and they grasped each other for a moment before breaking away; the older mans face now rid of fatherly intent, the visage of a ruler now flooding his features.

"What is it, my son?" he asks, his golden eye patch glinting in the chamber lights.

Heimdall straightens even further and opens his mouth to describe the events that had just happened on their soil, the entering of a foreigner by uncertain and dangerous means.

* * *

A man of midgardian blood and traits, but one of god-like strengths in physique and intellect has fallen into Asgard. The foreigner, Skraeling, is of cunning and brutal nature, not unwilling to break bone in a moments notice and fully capable of it. He is a dangerous man to be around, for he can draw you in with utter charm and fascination of his intellect, and then silence you with the agility of a panther, his bare hands squeezing the very breath from your lungs.

This man had come from above, tumbling through the star dotted, light blue and magenta midday sky in a metal ship before kissing the ground in an earth shaking collision. Heimdallr had witnessed its fiery descent and had turned his all seeing eye upon the craft, of such shape and size that it was clearly meant for speed and stealth. He watched in disbelief as a man emerged from the smoking, mangled structure, nearly unscathed though obviously out of sorts as he slowly untangled himself from its belly. He had crash landed in a field of short wild grass a few miles or so away from the Bifrost at which Heimdallr stood and was now already beginning to assess his craft and the land around him.

Alerting his guard, Heimdallr and his men hurried towards the palace, informing the nearest AEsir warrior, Thor, who they had come across in the Great Hall, courting a young woman: Lady Sif. After a few moments talk, Heimdallr and the guard of ten jogged off towards the site as Thor bounded towards the armoury- as he had neglected to put on his armour that day and was wearing his simple red tunic and trousers- leaving behind a confused and irritated warrior woman. She sighed exasperatedly, walking towards the armoury as well, knowing they would most likely need her as they so frequently forgot.

As Thor sprinted through the halls, his feet slapping the seamless floor and torches aflame on the walls, lighting the windowless hallways, one of the doors opened and out stepped his brother: Prince Loki. He was clad in his usual low cut green and black tunic, embroidered with gold, its length falling down to his mid thigh where his black trousers took over. His slicked raven hair had grown long and touched his shoulders now.

"Brother!" he declared. Loki's emerald eyes searched his brother's face as he halted in front of the door that he stood in. "What's the rush, dare I ask?" Thor spared him a smirk before he began talking.

"A man in a metal ship has appeared to crash into our land, from the sky. He is in the field we used to ride in, in our younger years, little brother."

"Well, then what's the rush? There is little chance he survived that fall, let alone be capable of defeating the almighty Thor, even in his day clothes." remarked Loki.

"That is the thing, Loki. He did survive." Thor said, ignoring Loki's jab. "After Heimdallr watched his crash, he turned his eye on the Skraeling, watched him climb from the mass of mangled metal, almost completely unharmed." Thor proclaimed. Loki raised his eyebrow in interest at this, his curiosity prickling.

"Oh, did he? Sounds like an impressive mortal. So I suppose you are off to go and conquer this poor bastard then?"

"Yes, do you care to join?"

"No, such events are often so dull and tedious. Go on your noble quest then. Let me not hold you any longer." Loki said plainly, yawning as he turned back into his room. He masked his yearning to go and find this strange man and discover all he could about him for his own purposes. So as he heard Thor sigh and continue off towards the armoury at a run, Loki swiftly closed his door and sat down at his window, which had a clear view of the field in which Thor had spoken of. Grabbing a spyglass of incredible capabilities, he set its focus on a burning wreckage of a ship, and a man that could have only been from Midgard, but oozed of something far greater, as he stood there, assessing the damage in the midst of a very large field. His very posture demanded respect and told anyone from anywhere that he was not a man to be fooled with. But he knew that the guard were fools, and were destined to get in this mans way. Down below, Heimdallr's guard approached, a mere mile away from the wreck. He could hear Thor bound back down the hall, Mljonir in hand, off to go conquer this Skraeling, who Loki already knew was not going to have any of it.

* * *

The guard had finally come upon the Skraeling, the group approaching him rapidly, large and intimidating; their armour was glinting in the sun, the metal jingling and shuffling as they marched towards the fallen man.

The foreigner did nothing, simply standing there hands at his side, waiting for their meeting. He did not back down or break eye contact with Heimdallr, who walked at the front of the guard, his hand resting on the sword at his belt. The man's face was long and fierce, his chin tilted downwards as he stared at them from under his brow. He gave off an air of fierce yet confined brutality as his eyes pierced the soldiers, making them feel as if they were under an inspection. He had high, defined cheekbones, his cheeks hollowed slightly under their shadow, the left side marked by a cut that dragged from the edge of the bone up into his ebony hair line, disappearing under a lock of the hair that had fallen into his eyes. The man was dressed darkly, highlighting his pale, luminescent complexion. Black, skinny trousers clung to his legs, a tear exposing his lower thigh. A black close fitting shirt with a small emblem on it put on display the expanse of his muscled body, though an equally black, simple jacket hid his physique greatly, making his brawn an invisible threat.

He did not move as the jingling mass of Asgardian soldiers stopped mere metres before him, their impressive armour shining in the midday sun, hands on swords and spears, some without, merely there for the volume. His eyes swept over each face, those in bronze, glittering helmets, eyeing the fear in the faces of those without. He calculated quickly and silently, deadly, which ones were most prone to speak out, prone to foolish amateur mistakes, which ones would take him and disrespect him, unknowing. His eyes mapped out each and every weakness of the soldiers in the span of a few seconds.

The Asgardian soldier who stood at the front was obviously an AEsir of great foresight and strength, but not one to fight unless completely necessary. Two guards stepped out of formation, each claiming a side of the foreigner, grasping his arms and forcing them behind his back in a lock. He showed no restraint as they handled him roughly, simply staring forward, unblinking, into Heimdallr's face. Although Heimdallr was, himself, a tall and impressive figure, this man was even more so, and was just as tall, their eyes level. The AEsir raised his chin in an attempt to speak down on him.

"What is your name?" the AEsir growled. The man raised an eyebrow marginally before straightening up to his full height, drawing his own chin up, feeling the potential threat of the AEsir. A small smirk graced his lips, hardly there.

"I wish to speak Odin." he stated smoothly, his deep, thunderous voice catching them all by surprise. Heimdallr narrowed his eyes at this request, taking a miniscule step forward.

"You may not. Not until we know more about your person." he replied.

The man clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head minutely. Heimdallr then proceeded to question him about his name, where he had come from, what his purpose was. The Skraeling spared him a few syllables such as 'a warrior', 'Earth' and then silence, his voice reverberating deeply with each sound. He refused them his name, but demanding, still, to talk to Odin. He watched, an inner glee blooming, as he watched the guard squirm as he said the All Father's given name. He knew it was a simple matter of time before one of the arrogant men stepped forward, telling him to fall silent.

At last, as the foreigner was prodded once again for more information, refusing him his request, he spoke slowly and methodically.

"I wish to see the almighty Odin, ruler of Asgard, if that is not too much to ask of you insolent beings. This is the realm of Asgard, am I correct? Shouldn't he send a more personable force as his shield?" he paused and let his words sink in, watching as they crossed the soldiers faces in alarm, waiting. In a second, one of the guards pushed past his fellow soldiers, from the front row, and stepped towards the man.

"You have no right to speak of the All Father in that way. Keep your tongue or loose it." the soldier threatened. His face drew back in disgust as he spat at the Skraeling before turning around to fall back into formation.

There was no time for reaction from anyone, even Heimdallr, for the moment that the guards spit touched the grass, the man acted. He twisted in the two soldier's grip, his sudden force bringing them around and loosening their grip. It was just enough, and the man wrenched his arms from their hands. He turned around swiftly, bringing his clenched fist, one at a time, under each of the guards chins, propelling them backwards, unconscious, by the sheer force of it- all in a matter of seconds. Then, descending on the foolish guard, the soldier's eyes widening in mortal fear as he looked at the foreigner's face, a fire lit behind his glasz eyes. The man then grabbed the soldier's weak skull between his hands and dragged him forward a few meters before stopping, a smirk now upon his curved lips.

"Please." he sneered. And with that, he moved so quickly, the action might not have even existed. He switched his hands, bringing his right hand to the opposite side of the guards head, and flipped him, bringing his body up into the air around his own head, his neck cracking grotesquely. The man brought him down, the lifeless body slamming into the hard ground just as lightning cut through the sky, Thor striding into view, Mljonir aloft in his hand.

"You there, Midgardian!" he bellowed. The man turned slowly to face the golden haired AEsir prince, the smirk still on his lips.

"Are you going to question me too, Prince Thor, whilst knowledgeable of the fact that it will gain you nothing?" he said plainly, his eyes full of mocking. "Yes, I know you, Prince Thor, warrior, son of Odin. What a… pleasure."

"Who are you? What is your purpose here?" Thor demanded. The man gave a small, breathy chuckle.

"I will tell you, just enough, if you take me to your… All Father." he bargained.

"Call him what you like, Skraeling. But what shall we call you?"

"All in good time. Now, must I ask again where Odin is? Or should I go find him myself." He threatened slickly. He began to step towards Thor and the remaining guard bristled. Thor raised his hand, waving them off as he stepped forward as well, accepting the challenge, appraising the man as he did so. The Skraeling leered at Thor as they closed in on the other.

"Surely you can arrange that, for a guest." The man remarked.

"Perhaps to a more courteous one. You did just incapitate a soldier and render another two unconscious in mere seconds, so naturally, I am curious as to why you so desperately wish to see the All Father." Thor stated, meeting up with the man, circling him.

"Well," the man started "I can see why you do wonder that. But seeing as I have just fallen from your sky into your realm, I would think that my desire to see Odin would be obvious. And perhaps if I had been shown some respect I would not have been driven to such lengths."

"You had done nothing to deserve respect." Thor snapped. "But I must say; you have earned mine. Impressive set of skills you have there. You are not like the other midgardians I have happened upon."

"That is because I am _nothing_ like those other 'midgardians you have happened upon.'" The man tilted his head, peering into Thor's eyes, subtly taking on a new, intoxicating and dangerous angle, one in which no one had noticed, and simply poisonous. "I am different. Much like you, Mr. Odinson. Me and you. We are not… ordinary, set to the ways of those below us. We are made for better things, things suited to our status. Don't you think we deserve to be noticed, acknowledged for the exceptional abilities we possess? For all that we have done for those who could care less? Respected. We are not ordinary, Princeling, we are made for extraordinary purposes. Made to, in a way, rule over those who are lesser, who find fault in their every move. We are not that different, and we are both completely and entirely unique. Now, don't you think we should see just what the other is made of, or should I tell you?" Thor took a step back, interest piquing his features. He took his time, looking this man over, his words swirling in his head. Quickly, he turned to Heimdallr.

"Go back to the palace with two of the guard. Alert Father, tell him everything. We shall be there in time."

Heimdallr looked Thro in the face, asking silent questions. He looked from Thor to the Skraeling back and forth a few times before nodding and heading off at a good clip towards the heart of Asgard, two soldiers on his tail.

"A wise choice, Prince Thor." The man said smoothly.

"I would hope so. I pray that you have not deceived us, midgardian. If so, well I suppose we shall see what the other truly is made of." Thor responded.

The man raised his eyebrow.

"You, pray? Ah, we both know that does not happen."

Thor clenched his jaw, before motioning two of the guard to grasp the Skraeling again. They appeared nervous and timid as they approached him. The man warranted himself a small smile at their cowardice as they grabbed his arms, shoving them back behind his back as he showed no restraint, though they held his muscled arms as though they were holding something that would bite at the smallest of warnings. Which was the truth.

* * *

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